Norwegian Wood and my broken self

I finished Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood a couple of days ago, after a 7 day slog. 7 days is pretty long going for me to read a book, so my initial assumption was I didn’t enjoy it all that much.

BUT.

It’s so flipping profound. For all it’s misogyny and ambiguity its left me feeling like I’m walking through fudge with my head in a fog.

Without giving spoilers (though its v old), there are a whole bunch of suicides and heartbreaks and lost souls in the novel and its h e a v y.

The plot is slow and a little cumbersome, but dredging through it, suffering alongside the characters is another level of incredible writing.

The truest mark of great writing is the story living with you once you’ve put it down, and through the devastation in the novel its living with me as a weight on my shoulders and yet I’m in an awe of admiration for Murakami. I’ll definitely read more of his.

Thanks for reading, if you’ve read the novel let me know what you thought of it- goodreads has some really mixed reviews and really interesting debates.

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